INT. GAINES & FILCHER - OFFICE - DAY
A Phone Man uses a voltage meter to check the lines, watching the needle as he taps the phone's redial button. Charlie sits tipped back in his swivel. Both men are sweating heavily.
PHONE MAN
Nope. Nothing.
CHARLIE
It's got to be something.
PHONE MAN
Getting a buzz, huh, some kind of high
frequency signal?
CHARLIE
Same thing happened with the phone I
had out there. Never on local calls. Just
long distance. Wait …
He keys in a number, waits for the call to go through, then hands the receiver to the bored Phone Man who, still watching the meter, listens a bit. Grunts.
PHONE MAN
Slight drop in voltage. Nothing to do
with your line, though. Might want to
check with your long distance carrier.
CHARLIE
I did. They said it was probably some-
thing in the line. (BEAT) So now what?
PHONE MAN
(Gathering up his gear) Got me, Pal.
I’m just here to check your phone. I
checked your phone. There's nothing
wrong with it.
He puts everything back the way it was, and Charlie waits for him to go before picking up the receiver, keying in a number.
INT. JACOBS DETECTIVE AGENCY
A framed movie poster for ‘The Long Goodbye’ hangs on the wall behind the desk where Sylvie, dining on a hotdog, picks through a pile of high contrast surveillance photos, the same two men in any number of locales; in some, they're kissing. She answers the phone on the third ring.
SYLVIE
Jacobs ... Yeah? Me who? ... So talk,
but make it snappy, Charlie, I got a guy
cheating on his guy with another guy,
and I gotta be in Boston by 4 ...
She pushes the photographs aside, making room for her to write on the desk blotter: a list of telephone numbers.
SYLVIE
See what I can do.
There's someone at the door. She hits the buzzer fixed to the underside the desk's middle drawer where there's also a 9mm Beretta mounted on a spring release. An effeminate businessman comes in and, seeing the photos, covers his eyes, peeking through his fingers. Sylvie flaps a hand for him to sit.
SYLVIE
Gotta go, Charlie. Be back on Monday.
Gonna be that long before I’ll have any-
thing to tell you anyhow … Yeah? You
only love me when you need something.
The man across from her bursts out crying.
INT. TRADING ROOM
A hot, sluggish atmosphere. The Secretary, fanning herself, notices when a lit button on her telephone console goes off. And then Charlie's there in his office doorway. He flicks a look to the Filing Room.
SECRETARY
Good day to call in sick, huh?
CHARLIE
What?
SECRETARY
She called in sick.
CHARLIE
God, it's hot. Air conditioning goes and
you can't even open a goddamn window.
SECRETARY
Keeps the jumpers inside.
CHARLIE
Think I'm going to call it a day.
SECRETARY
Sure, why not? Wish I could.
EXT. WALL STREET
A Blond Man, chewing gum, gets into a cab that follows after the one carry-ing Charlie.
EXT. MARINA
Charlie passes through the entrance and uses a keycard to unlock the gate let-ting onto the docks.
The Blond Man makes his way along the sidewalk, watching Charlie through the chain link fence as he boards the ‘Sea Change’, as he uses a dipstick to check fuel levels in both tanks before going below …
INT. SEA CHANGE
The ignition switch hangs loose from the console, and Charlie needs one hand to hold it as he turns the key with the other, but there’s a short in the wiring and the starter whirs only briefly, and just once. He’s not going anywhere.
EXT. MARINA - DUSK
The Blond Man exits the marina store. Tearing the end off a pack of Juicy Fruit, he returns to his surveillance.
Charlie, wearing nothing but shorts and flip-flops right now, is on the dock, hosing himself down.
INT. GAINES & FILCHER - LOBBY - MORNING
Charlie makes for the already crowded elevator where Maria, near the front, is being chatted up by a good looking young Trader who chooses not to notice that Charlie wants on.
TRADER
So what do you do to unwind?
MARIA
Nothing. I'm always keyed up.
TRADER
You like horses, you like to ride?
She smiles at Charlie as the door comes sliding shut between them.
CHARLIE
You like boats?
The polished chrome doors have closed, and he stands there face to face with his own reflection. He can't believe he said what he just said.
INT. GAINES & FILCHER - TRADING ROOM
Everything's on fast forward, clerks and messengers hurrying back and forth as brokers work the phones. Charlie’s out of synch with all this activity. Emerging from his office, he stands there in the doorway, waiting for his Secretary to get off the phone.
CHARLIE
What's up?
SECRETARY
Latest inflation figures.
The phone rings and she answers it, at the same time holding up a hand for him to stay right where he is. Which he does, but not for her sake. Maria’s just now going past on her way back to the Filing Room. She doesn't stop.
MARIA
Yes, I do.
CHARLIE
What?
MARIA
Like boats.
She calls this back over her shoulder. The Secretary's hand is still up for him to wait as she listens to the caller on the line, but as soon as Maria disappears into the Filing Room, Charlie ducks back inside his office, closing the door behind him.
INT. OFFICE - LATER
The floor's littered with Charlie’s missed shots, balled up paper that hasn’t
made the wastebasket in the corner. He shoots another. The intercom buzzes.
SECRETARY (OS)
Charlie, you're going to be late.
CHARLIE
For what?
SECRETARY (OS)
Lunch. Gaines is already up there.
INT. TRADING ROOM
The Secretary's holding up a padded envelope which Charlie takes on the fly as he hurries past her desk.
SECRETARY
Someone dropped it off for you in the
lobby.
He heads for the elevators. Maria's coming the other way with food in a plastic container. He holds the door for her.
CHARLIE
You're Maria.
MARIA
I know.
CHARLIE
Who likes boats.
Henry, looking on from the water cooler, is too far away to hear whatever it is they're saying. And then Charlie's out the door, and Maria's on her way back to the Filing Room.
INT. FILING ROOM
Maria, who’s alone here, glances up from her salad to see Henry in the door-way, watching her. He comes inside. A phone’s ringing out in the Trading Room.
HENRY
Brown bagging it again, how about
that? You know, when someone says
Harvard, it just never occurs to me
that they might mean Radcliff.
Maria says nothing, waiting for more. But there is no more. Suddenly realizing that the ringing phone is his own, Henry hurries back across the Trading Room to his desk.
INT. EXECUTIVE DINING-ROOM
Charlie, sitting across from Gaines, only picks at his food. Focused on the envelope he has in his pocket, he’s trying to guess at the contents by the feel of it through the paper.
GAINES
We all need a vacation every once in
a while. Recharge the old batteries.
CHARLIE
Maybe you're right.
GAINES
Maybe's got nothing to do with it. Get
some fun out of life, Charlie. Wasn't
all that long ago I thought you might
go off the deep end, but you stuck with
it and turned things around, and I’m
damned proud of you.
CHARLIE
Wait a couple of weeks.
GAINES
What, when your option expires? Just
might surprise you, you know. You do
what we talked about?
He waits for an answer, but Charlie hasn’t got one, doesn’t even know what the question refers to.
GAINES
Backing it up, Charlie, Jesus, making
a backup.
CHARLIE
Right. On disk, you mean. Yes. I did.
The waiter comes to refill his wine glass. Gaines holds off saying anything more until he's gone again.
GAINES
So you leave it with me. Show me how
to access the damn thing, and then just
forget about it. Go somewhere, take a
powder. I'll exercise the call for you if
it comes to that.
Charlie, absorbed in his one-handed opening of the envelope, nods his head in agreement. Gaines watches him.
GAINES
I'm told you had someone in from the
phone company to check your lines.
Charlie cheats a look at what he's extracted from the envelope: a round-shafted key which, absent the locker number, is just like the one in his attaché case.
GAINES
We do have people in-house for that
sort of thing, you know. (Re: Steak)
Not rare enough? (BEAT) Charlie?
CHARLIE
(Pushing back his chair) Sorry, I ...
GAINES
What? What is it?
CHARLIE
Sorry, I'm really sorry, it's just, I just
remembered. Something I've got to do.
GAINES
Well, for Pete's sake, can't it wait till
after lunch? We need to talk.
There's a perceptible drop in the volume of conversation at the other tables as Charlie hurries off across the room, the buzz not picking up again until he's out the door.
Gaines sits there a moment in stunned silence, his eyes fixed on the now empty chair across from him.
EXT. GAINES & FILCHER
Charlie, carrying the attaché case, makes for the subway entrance at the corner.
INT. SUBWAY CAR - MOVING
He stands right by the doors, ready to be the first one off when the train pulls in at Grand Central.
INT. GRAND CENTRAL – STORAGE AREA
Apprehensive as he nears the locker, Charlie hesitates. He uses the duplicate key and, upon opening the door, immediately covers his nose against the stink. It's Coach, or what’s left of him, his severed head standing upright on a short and bloody stump of neck. Letting go of the door, he turns away, retching, drawing attention. Nonetheless, and despite his revulsion, he sticks with established routine, depositing quarters and reclaiming the key before leaving.
INT. GRAND CENTRAL - MAIN CONCOURSE
Holding himself back from actually running, Charlie hurries across to the main stairway where he climbs the steps two at a time, and he’s just about to the top when the Blond Man appears as if out of nowhere, grabbing hold of him from behind. Charlie, spinning around, swings the attaché case and connects with such force that the man’s knocked backwards off his feet and down the stairs.
EXT. GRAND CENTRAL STATION
Charlie exits on the run, heading west along the sidewalk. Constantly checking back over his shoulder, he doesn't notice the brown sedan parked on the other side of Vanderbilt, nor Stiletto who bumps him wide of the crosswalk, towards the sedan, where he's jolted, going spastic.
Behind the wheel’s a grey haired Indian woman with a long, jagged facial scar. The Fat Man holds the back door open, a raincoat over his arm, concealing something … a gun ...
The Blond Man, exiting the station, catches sight of Charlie being loaded into the sedan, which now pulls out, heading west on 42nd. He goes after it.
INT. BROWN SEDAN - MOVING
Charlie, still wracked by seizure in the narrow floor space between the front and back seats, keeps an eye on the Tazer in the Fat Man’s hand. Stiletto rides with the Indian woman up front.
FAT MAN
Like to ask you a few questions, Mr.
Hastings.
EXT. 42ND STREET
Traffic is heavy, making it possible for the Blond Man, though on foot, to keep the sedan in sight until two blocks further on when it turns off onto the avenue. At this intersection there’s a slight elevation, affording him a view of the traffic ahead. But the brown sedan's not part of it. He pops a stick of gum and starts in checking the side streets.
EXT. REHEARSAL STUDIO
The sound of loud drumming and bass is audible outside where the brown sedan is just now driving off.
INT. REHEARSAL STUDIO
Charlie’s being hustled down a corridor past a number of rehearsal rooms, all in use, and then left down a second corridor made narrow by stacked rows of bagged garbage along either wall. The Fat Man unlocks a doorway at the end.
INT. REHEARSAL STUDIO - ROOM
Stiletto dumps Charlie onto a metal chair, lashing his elbows to the chair back, his ankles to its legs, with baling wire.
The Fat Man puts a pot of water on a hot plate and plugs it in.
FAT MAN
Coffee? From Columbia. Juan Valdez.
A close, personal friend of mine.
Charlie, still twitching from the effects of the Tazer, watches as the Fat Man sets the gun down and opens his attaché case.
CHARLIE
What's going on?
FAT MAN
War, Amigo. A war is going on. Ooo,
is this what I think it is? A floppy?!
Shaking his head, amused, he picks up the diskette.
FAT MAN
A little behind the times, no?
Removing the disk from its sleeve, he feeds it to the computer.
FAT MAN
You know, we've been monitoring
your trades for almost a year now,
and I have to tell you, your read of
market trends …
Having fit a cigar into the opening of the slicer, he bangs the handle home with the heel of his hand.
FAT MAN
(Continuing) Fantastic. Particularly in
coffee. Truly fantastic. But what I find
even more fantastic is the way that this
incredible knack of yours seems to have
developed overnight. You're not doing
very well, and then, all of a sudden …
Once more he picks up the Tazer and, when Charlie flinches, goes for his balls, squeezing so hard his eyes roll.
STILETTO
The goose! The golden eggs!
CHARLIE
Jesus! Let go! Please! Whaddaya want?
Just tell me what you want!
The Fat Man relaxes his grip and smiles. He glances towards the monitor where there's an A> prompt flashing on screen.
FAT MAN
The code. I want the access code.
CHARLIE
Okay, okay, I'll tell you the code, but
it won't work. Not here.
The Fat Man crosses to the boom box and, turning it to full volume, takes aim with the Tazer and fires, Stiletto keeping his distance as Charlie bucks backwards and the chair jumps.
When he tries to speak, he makes like a goldfish at feeding time, his voice lost to the electric current. Stiletto shoves one of the tables closer, then grabs hold of Charlie's right hand, forcing his thumb into the slicer.The Fat Man lights up.
CHARLIE
It's the truth, I swear, I'm telling you
the truth! It can only be accessed on
the system we use at the firm!
Stiletto slams down on the slicer, and Charlie's scream competes with the boom box. His thumb’s been cut off at the first joint, blood pumping out the knuckle end.
The Fat Man pours coffee on it, then wraps the hand in a towel which is quick- ly soaked through, red and dripping.
CHARLIE
My thumb, my thumb, my thumb ... !
STILETTO
Shutup!
He tosses the severed joint into the toilet and flushes and, when Charlie persists in mourning its loss, comes back to the chair and slaps him. Hard.
STILETTO
I said shutup.
CHARLIE
BOH 1066 Slash 12 Slash 24 ...
The Fat Man types this on the keyboard, then waits for the on-screen response which comes up: ‘System Incompatible’.
Charlie's repeated attempts to touch his injured right hand with his left are frustrated by the wire bindings which also keep him from protecting his face when Stiletto starts in slapping him again. The Fat Man makes him stop.
FAT MAN
You're sure that's it?
CHARLIE
Yes! BOH 1066/12/24. It's just that
you can't ...
All of a sudden it's raining, water spraying out under high pressure from the over-head sprinklers, and there’s somebody out in the corridor yelling 'Fire', and a confusion of other, more distant voices which become audible when the boom box shorts out.
The Fat Man closes the attaché case and holds the Tazer on Charlie as Stiletto crosses to the door. At first he opens it just for a look-see, then wide enough to step through to the corridor where, in addition to rain, there’s fire, a dance of flame shadows on the wall there, framed by the open doorway.
(SUBTITLED - SPANISH)
STILETTO (OS)
Fucking garbage!
Smoke's now finding its way into the room. The hot plate spits and sizzles.
FAT MAN
(Calling out) How bad?
Waiting for a response, he alternates his attention between Charlie and the corridor, and now they’re both looking to the doorway as Stiletto floats back in with the smoke.
FAT MAN
What's wrong?!
He doesn't see the hole in Stiletto’s head or the Blond Man there right behind him, holding him up, until it's too late, until after the silenced rounds of a .22 have already passed through him and he's falling, taking Charlie with him as he upsets the chair and rides it over backwards. The monitor screen shatters.
Hitting the floor under all that weight, Charlie has the wind knocked out of him, and he lies there on his back, still seated, with the Fat Man sprawled across him, part of his bulk hung up on one of the chair arms.
The Blond Man rips off the interior shutters and opens the window onto the fire escape. As the smoke begins to draw, he squats down next to Stiletto and starts going through his pockets, hanging onto a snub-nosed .38 and all identification papers. He then goes to pat down the Fat Man and once again keeps the wallet and passport, and anything else that might identify him.
BLOND MAN
Now they're nothing but a couple of
dead spics. Tell me what it was they
wanted to know, Charlie.
But Charlie can't tell him anything - can't tell because he can't talk, because he can't breathe - and he's slapping his chest, trying to explain, when suddenly the Blond Man grabs his right hand and holds the bleeding stump of a thumb to the hot plate.
Charlie passes out, and right away starts breathing again. The Blond Man covers his mouth with one hand, slaps him awake with the other. The stump is blackened, smoking.
BLOND MAN
Can't have you bleeding to death.
Charlie makes noise, struggling for air.
BLOND MAN
I'm on your side, Charlie, I'm here to
help you. Okay? Okay. Now. I'm go-
ing to take my hand away and you're
going to tell me what happened, okay?
The baling wire’s just pulled through a split in the chairback, and Charlie, realizing he can now move his left arm and that the Tazer, on the seat between his legs, is within reach, makes no sound when the Blond Man takes his hand away from his mouth.
BLOND MAN
And you better let me have the key.
The locker key, Charlie. Where is it?
CHARLIE
Briefcase. Pocket. Side pocket ... I
didn’t tell them anything.
BLOND MAN
What interests me more is what they
told you, what they wanted to know.
As he backs away, angling for the table where the Fat Man left the attaché case, he steps on something: the diskette's empty plastic sleeve. He picks this up and crosses to the computer, about to say something when the spluttering sprinkler system shuts down. Flipping open the port, which has taken a direct hit in the gunfire, he discovers that the disk inserted there is cracked. He holds it up for Charlie to see.
BLOND MAN
Hope you've got another one. Yes?
No? Yes? Safety deposit box, home,
where?
His movements concealed by the Fat Man, Charlie holds the Tazer level and, waiting for his target to cross into the line of fire, fires. The Blond Man jerks backwards and goes down.
Charlie manages to roll the Fat Man off of him and then sets to freeing himself from the remaining wire bindings. He gets to his feet. The Blond Man watches as he picks up both the .38 and the diskette, and he tries to protect himself when Charlie again points the Tazer.
BLOND MAN
We're on the same team, goddamnit!
Charlie shoots him, then grabs the attaché case and hurries out the door. But he doesn’t get very far. In addition to the smoking mess of spilled garbage making the corridor all but impassable, there’s the sound of voices … Coming this way. Ducking back inside, he locks the door and, going carefully around the twitchy Blond Man, makes for the window. Where he climbs through.
EXT. FIRE ESCAPE
The bolts securing the corroded wrought iron to the building are loose and, as Charlie makes his way down the zigzag of steps, begin to pull out. It’s not until he frees the ladder extension at the bottom end, however, that the entire framework shudders and drops away, banging and scraping against the brick wall as it swings, arcing back and forth, suspended by the one and only top bolt that holds. Charlie leaps clear.
INT. REHEARSAL STUDIO - ROOM
The Blond Man makes it to the window just as Charlie’s climbing out of the trash dumpster in the alley down below. The fire escape, though still swinging slightly, hangs out of reach. He reacts to voices outside in the corridor.
ROCKER #1 (OS)
Fuckin’ landlord's gonna pay, I know
that much. All my fuckin’ equipment.
Look at this shit.
The Blond Man goes to listen at the door.
INT. CORRIDOR
Two longhairs kick their way through the smoking garbage.
ROCKER #2
It coulda got started, you know, like
how when things catch fire by them-
selves. What's that called?
ROCKER #1
Who the fuck cares. All's I know is we
coulda fried, Dude. That fat fuck! I’m
gonna sue his ass.
EXT. AVENUE
Charlie’s momentarily blinded as he emerges into sunlight. It's only now, as he stands there, dripping wet, passersby giving him a wide berth, that he be-comes aware of all the blood on him. He crosses the intersection.
There’s a crowd in the side street outside the rehearsal studio, and the sound of approaching sirens. A police car pulls up. He goes the other way.
Comments